


the aftermath

by d_e_s



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, inFAMOUS (Video Games), inFAMOUS: Second Son
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fulfillment, mostly just fluff, this is really just them being sweet and gentle with each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 09:27:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12956277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_e_s/pseuds/d_e_s
Summary: desmond doesn't usually get texts in the middle of the night. scratch that--desmond doesn't usually get texts at all. so when he suddenly gets one from delsin with a rather startling message, nothing is going to stop him from finding out what's wrong.





	the aftermath

He woke to the sharp sound of a phone buzzing against the jagged stone floor, the loud noise echoing in the cavernous space until it seemed to rattle the very marrow of his bones and beat against his skull like a drum–though that was probably his fault, considering he’d tucked the thing under his pillow last night. With a low groan, Desmond blearily fished the offending object out from under his pillow–regretting his choice to place it there as he felt the cold bite at his exposed skin, ever-present even with the space heaters they had set up in this area–and tapped the cracked screen, blinking as he attempted to focus his gaze. The phone was as generic as one could get these days: a black, off-brand touch screen that had limited everything, and not an ounce of customization to it. There was no lock screen photo, no background photo, nothing to indicate that it belonged him. It was a tactical necessity, but that didn’t erase the bitterness that curled in Desmond’s chest as he imagined how he would personalize a phone, if only given the chance.

He did not have much time to lament on his default settings, though. He’d woken up because he’d gotten a message, and as soon as he saw the name of the sender (nothing more than a firework emoji, but it was enough to light a fire in his veins) any previous exhaustion was stripped away, and he immediately sat upright, the sleeping bag falling around him as the cold was forgotten and panic replaced all previous emotions.

Normally, messages from Delsin (although sporadic due to his lack of general cell service) brought Desmond a quiet joy that he couldn’t put into words. The messages were usually fun and upbeat, though, with the occasional selfie peppered in with various other images sent to remind Desmond what the outside world was like; rarely did they scare him. As Desmond stared at the words before him though, he found his heart stuttering to a stop and ice running through his veins as panic sunk its cold fingers into his chest.

[ del : i really need you ]

Admissions of vulnerability were rare between the two; an admission this bold and blatant was absolutely unheard of. With a grunt, Desmond threw off the crumpled sleeping bag and instantly rolled to his feet, automatically snapping the hidden blade into place and grabbing his messenger bag. Dimly, he was aware of the mumble of protesting voices, though the words were distant and distorted in his mind, incomprehensible as he made his way towards the entrance. Briefly, a hand grabbed his shoulder in an attempt to stop him (or perhaps figure out where he was going) but it was instantly shrugged off. Even if he had wanted to explain this, there was no way for him to. What was he supposed to say? That Delsin, who tried so hard to be upbeat and cheery, had made his vulnerability and need obvious? That, because of that, he had to leave immediately go to him? For some reason, Desmond doubted that that would be a “good enough” reason for him to disappear for a while again. Lips curled in distaste, he snatched the keys to the van, the jingle of keys lost in the growing murmur surrounding him.

“I’ll be back later,” Desmond barked, voice low as he whirled around to see who was attempting to stop him, the need to protect sharpening his words and erasing the teasing edge that was usually dancing in his tone. “I don’t have time to explain, this is something I need to do.”

A face came into focus, and Desmond found he could only blink owlishly as Shaun stared back at him, gaze unreadable as they attempted to stare each other down. For a long moment, silence (riddled with the harsh edge of tension) stretched between them, before Shaun nodded and stepped back, apparently satisfied with whatever he saw in Desmond’s face.

“Be careful,” Shaun murmured, voice soft so not to wake anyone else, “and come back alive.”  
Startled, Desmond stared at Shaun for a moment longer, before he gave a nod and weak smile, some of the edge fading away. Though they bickered like children occasionally, Shaun was someone Desmond considered a friend most of the time, and it was moments like these that reminded him why he did.

“Thanks,” he murmured, before he turned on his heels and quickly exited the cavern, each exhale a white puff, a stern reminder of how cold it really was outside. Pulling his hood up–both for warmth and out of habit–Desmond unlocked the van and slid into the front seat, mentally praying the cold engine would actually turn over. To his relief, the engine didn’t fight him beyond an initial protest at the cold, before it turned over and growled to life. With a flex of his cold fingers, Desmond carefully pulled out and set himself towards Seattle, careful to maintain the speed limit despite his rapidly beating heart and panic that thundered in his ears with each beat, unwilling to risk getting himself pulled over or attracting unnecessary attention.

Usually, the drive to Seattle was something of a bittersweet endeavor for Desmond. On one hand, making it meant that he’d get another chance to see Delsin, something he always jumped to do considering how rare such an opportunity was. The drive to Seattle was never a permanent one, though, and Desmond found he couldn’t help but be bitter over the fact that he knew he’d be living in a likely short amount of time. Usually, the drive to Seattle was a mix of emotion that he never brought up, but this time he felt none of that. None of the guilt that started at his fingers before it wrapped itself around his chest like a too-tight shirt, none of the anticipation that sent warm jolts up his arms and curled around his heart like a soft blanket, and none of the excitement that brought life back to experience-dulled hues. Instead, a curious resolution settled itself beside him, acting as though it was a travel companion that he had never asked for. Previous panic slowly ebbed away (he had learned long ago that panic and fear had no power, and he had learned even before that how to push them into a small box in the back of his mind) until Desmond was left with nothing more than a curious void, the way he often felt before missions or taking a life.  
He was already preparing for the potential of being hurt, and the easiest way to take the edge off of pain was to minimize the amount of area that could be damaged. Fingers tightened on the steering wheel, and Desmond let out a rough exhale, completely unaware of the fact that he had spent the last couple of hours driving in radio silence. By the time he realized that it was a little unsettling to drive without the comforting jingle of something on the radio though, it was too late.

Seattle had changed from the last time he had visited it. Carefully, he parked the van just outside the city and away from any prying eyes, slipping the keys into his pockets and tugging his sweatshirt closer in an attempt to gain some comfort from the worn material. Last time he had been here, DUP had been swarming the entrance to the city, their presence and power loudly declared just in the sheer amount of numbers they presented, but this time the entrance was clear. Cautious, Desmond slunk past the barrier and darted into the shadows, uncomfortable unless he was able to blend himself into the darkness, even if the safety he felt there was just psychological. with near-silent steps, he made his way through the wrecked city, gaze sharp as it took in each smoldering building and charred remain, looking for the first sign of hostile movement.

Civilians were aimlessly roaming the streets, seeming more lost than frightened, and Desmond found himself further confused by the sudden shift in the city. Something had happened, and he couldn’t help but wonder what Delsin had to do with it. Vividly aware of the weight of the phone in his pocket, Desmond picked up the pace, easily parkouring through a city that had once been a stranger to him but now seemed like the home he’d been missing all along, until he found himself walking up the stairs of a familiar apartment complex. One, two, three steps, and he was suddenly at the door he had been looking for, the silence from the apartment almost as alarming as the text he had gotten in the early hours of the morning. For a moment, he hesitated, and then he hated himself for it.

Truth was, he wasn’t certain what was inside. He wasn’t certain if Delsin was even home, and if he was, Desmond had no way of pinpointing what kind of mindset the conduit was in. For all the fun they had together, for all the laughs and intimate moments they had shared, Delsin was still the more dangerous of the two, and right now Desmond’s instincts were quick to remind him of that. If he went in and something had gone wrong, he didn’t stand a chance against the other. If he had been smarter, he would have attempted to assess the situation before just barging in. His life was already composed of impulsive choices, though, who was he to start hesitating now?

Clenching his hand into a fist, Desmond gave a sharp rap against the cheap wooden door, before turning the doorknob and walking in. Whatever he could have prepared for, though, wouldn’t have come close to what he saw. For a moment, he thought nobody was home: the apartment was dark, not even a kitchen light left on, and absolutely freezing. It was only after he flicked on the living room light that he realized that someone was actually there–that he realized that Delsin was home.  
To say the kid looked like shit would be an understatement. Dark circles rimmed Delsin’s eyes, and he was curled up in a ball on the couch without so much as a blanket to cover him, his phone laying face down on the floor where he had most likely dropped it after texting Desmond. Whatever fears Desmond had had about Delsin potentially being dangerous abruptly disappeared as heartache swiftly slammed into him, his amber gaze widening as he took a moment to process the sight before him.

Dim surprise briefly flickered in Delsin’s gaze as he turned his attention towards his sudden visitor, and for a moment, it looked like he was going to sit up, before he once again slid back down the couch. Recognition had eased some of the dullness that had previously dominated his gaze though, and for just a moment, a ghost of an attempted smile flitted across his face. In that single heartbeat, it was almost like all of this was a joke, and that Delsin was about to jump up and laugh at how effective his prank was.

Only there was no jumping up, and there was no laughter this time. Slowly, Desmond kicked off his shoes and made his way over to Delsin, arms slipping out of his hoodie as he immediately draped it over the conduit, alarm spiking through him as he realized just how cold the other was. In the entire time he had known Delsin, the other had always been some degree of warm, even when burnt out from a day of activity. To touch the other and feel as though he’d brushed his hand against freshly fallen snow was a louder alarm than anything he’d seen so far. 

“Hey,” Desmond murmured as he settled down on the couch beside Delsin, “you know it’s colder in here than it is outside, right?”

Fingers curling against the material of Desmond’s sweatshirt, Delsin was momentarily quiet, before (with a great deal of effort) he shifted so he was in a sitting position, quietly letting Desmond both onto the couch and into his bubble; the movement was small, but the gesture was significant.

“Yeah, been a little busy,” Delsin muttered, voice sounding far away and disconnected even to him. “Haven’t really had the energy to care. I–” he paused, before he slowly brought his gaze over to Desmond, a bit of focus slowly coming into dark hues, before he abruptly looked away, recalling his earlier show of weakness and feeling a touch embarrassed because of it. “I didn’t expect you to come. Thought you’d be buried deep somewhere again.”

The words stung, though they were not entirely undeserved. With a sigh, Desmond scrubbed his fingers through his hair and offered Delsin a partial shrug, the gesture bittersweet at best. He knew it wasn’t fair to Delsin to be as on and off as he was, and he knew that he unintentionally hurt the other far more often than they talked about because of it, but he was here now. He was here now, despite everything, and that’s what he wanted to focus on, not past wrongdoings that likely would never fully heal over.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Desmond muttered, voice soft despite the current of emotions running through him. “But I…there was no way in hell they were going to keep me from you. I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but you’re important to me. I’ll always come when you need me to.” The words were heavy, but genuine, something that needed to be said before they even approached the subject of what had happened.

Silence hung between them for a moment, before Delsin sighed and shifted so his shoulder was brushing against Desmond’s, his body language speaking much louder than his words ever would in this moment.

“Sorry,” Delsin offered in a quiet voice, fully aware that his previous statement had been uncalled for. This was the first time in days that any sort of emotion had broken through the fog that had settled in his mind, though, and he wasn’t entirely certain how to handle it; too much had happened in too short of a time, and he was still reeling from…his thoughts trailed off, his mind shying away from completing that sentence even as images of Reggie’s face flashed in his mind, his shoulders tightening and body hunching as he attempted to crawl back into his previous numbness.

“It’s fine, you were right,” Desmond muttered, not wanting Delsin to feel bad for a statement that he was justified in making. “Uh–I didn’t see any DUP on my way in. What’d I miss when I was away?” It was an attempt at normality, an attempt at getting Delsin to relax against him, but it seemed to have the opposite effect; as soon as the words left Desmond’s mouth, he felt Delsin tense further against him, body rigid and stiff against his side.

“I took care of Augustine,” Delsin muttered after a moment, “She, uh, she’s not a problem anymore. The DUP isn’t as much of a threat without her around. The city is really happy about it, things are slowly getting back to normal. I’ll probably head back home soon and clean up the mess I left there.”

Whatever had happened at the reservation was not something they had really talked about, and Desmond knew better than to press for details. After a moment, he shifted and slipped an arm around Delsin, uncertain as to how welcome his touch was in this moment. Defeating Augustine should have been a great victory for Delsin. They should have been celebrating, their laughter loud and joyous as they finally unchained Seattle from the choke collar it had previously been captured in, but this was not a celebration. Something had happened, something that Delsin was dancing around actually telling him, that had caused the other to send him that message. Delsin didn’t fight the arm around him (in fact, he seemed to relax a little, perhaps finding the warmth comforting) and Desmond took that as permission to push a little, desperate to figure out what was wrong so he could try and fix it.

“Heh, you finally kicked her ass? Knew she didn’t stand a chance against you. Would have thought you’d be celebrating getting her the fuck out of here, though,” Desmond murmured, shifting so he could slowly attempt to coax Delsin closer to him, the need to wrap the other in an embrace manifesting itself as a physical ache in his chest.

“Yeah,” Delsin muttered, suddenly shutting down, previous sentences reduced to a single word response. For a while, that was all he offered, before he suddenly moved. With a force that he had previously been lacking, Delsin buried his face against Desmond’s chest and shuddered, fine shivers running all through his body as he desperately tried to eliminate any distance between them. Image after image slammed into his mind, vivid against closed eyes, the sound of Reggie’s last words echoing loudly in his head. It was only now, with Desmond’s arms around him and his face buried in the assassin’s chest, that he allowed himself to fully relive those final moments, that he allowed himself to feel Reggie’s grip on his hand, to feel the desperation that had burned through him, to feel the agony that had whipped through him the second Reggie had let go. Emotions that he had buried slammed against him, apparently only in the shudders that racked his body.

“Reggie,” Delsin managed, before his voice caught and he was unable to continue in fear of truly breaking down in front of Desmond.

Desmond understood grief, though. He knew what it felt like, what it looked like, and most importantly, he knew what it sounded like. Delsin didn’t need to complete the statement for Desmond to know what had happened; he had worn the same pain when he had woken up and realized what had happened with Lucy. Amber gaze widened in a slight disbelief, before pain shot through Desmond, his arms immediately wrapping around the other as he attempted not to shield him from what he was feeling, but rather to offer him a foundation to stand on, a hand to hold through the storm that was likely coursing through Delsin.

All of a sudden, everything made sense: the sudden text message, the state of the apartment, the lack of excitement on Delsin’s end despite the fact he’d finally defeated Augustine. All of a sudden, everything made sense, and Desmond couldn’t help but wish it didn’t. Briefly, he wondered if things would have been different if he’d been there, if he’d actually been around, but he knew better than to go down that road right now, when Delsin so clearly needed him. While Desmond knew what Delsin was about to say, he remained silent, knowing that Delsin needed to acknowledge what had happened if he had any chance of healing.

“Reggie’s dead,” Delsin managed, before a strained noise ripped through him, his voice muffled by Desmond’s shirt. The words were strained with a weight that would never properly be characterized, and Desmond knew that nothing more would be offered on the subject; if what had happened ever came out, it would be over time, when the wounds weren’t still bleeding and fresh.

“I’m sorry,” Desmond muttered as he tightened his embrace on the other, unwilling to let him go. “I’m sorry.” he spoke the apologies not out of pity–no, that was the last thing Delsin wanted right now–but out of understanding, as he knew far too well just how deep that wound ran. As much as he wanted to say something that would fix this all, as much as he wanted to turn back time and prevent it all from happening, Desmond knew he couldn’t. There was nothing he could say that would take away the pain of what had happened, and that was something that he just had to accept. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try, though.

“I’m here. I’m here, Del, and I’m not going anywhere,” Desmond mumbled against the top of Delsin’s head as he buried his face against his hair, enveloping the conduit as well as he physically could, “I’m here, and I’m not leaving you.”

“I’m here..” There was nothing he could say to ease Delsin’s pain, but he would die before he left the other alone. Harsh breathing rumbled against his chest, and if Desmond felt any wetness against his t-shirt, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he simply sat and held tight to Delsin, speaking through actions rather than words. He was there, and he wasn’t leaving him. Not like this--not this time. 

For once, it was his turn to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> prompt fulfillment for "i need you." super fun to write, hope you guys enjoy!


End file.
